The chill of the morning was crisp on my extremities as I set about relighting the ger's fire in the early grey light. With a small pile of 'briquettes' starting to glow I layered up and slipped outside, heading up the bank to the ridge, past the main ger whose chimney was trailing a slim wisp of smoke. As I turned around, the broad valley stretched away into the half light, bordered by the far ridge, which was highlighted by pale blue sky and the bright suggestion of sunrise. I sat in the frost and listened to the birds chattering in the grasses behind me, watching the ger camp wake from its gentle slumber. Before long Grandad Sambo had milked two of the cows and released the corralled stock, meanwhile Granny had collected the overnight cattle dung in a wicker backpack and had the gers chimney pumping smoke, which I fantasised to be in readiness for a full English breakfast.

The sun broke the line of crags and the sudden warmth it brought was matched by the glow that crept away from me down the valleys side. 10 minutes later I realised that I was shivering so returned to the ger, nodding and 'San Benau-ing' the smiling, traditionally clad couple as I passed in my down jacket and bright orange bobble hat. I opened the door to a wall of heat and gratefully stood over the roaring stove feeling the cold melting away from my hands. I topped up the fuel and woke Emilie, as requested, so that she could get some morning photos, whilst I retreated to the old armchair, with my sleeping bag around my waist, to sit back and enjoy the warmth of the fire and to go through the pictures I'd taken.

After Emilie returned there was a commotion at the door and the grandmother rushed in, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me outside where a man held two young goat kids whose mouths, lips and noses were hideously ulcerated. After a brief clinical examination in the dark of next door's ger, and with Victor translating a patchy history, it transpired that the kids and their mother almost certainly had orf. Queue a stilted Anglo-Mongolian conversation involving the intricacies of viral vs bacterial infections, zoonotic risk, isolation protocols and vertical vs horizontal transmission, all followed by lots of nodding, hand shaking and passing of the biohazard twins amongst as many people as possible, none of whom showed any intention of washing their hands...

After making a big show of going to get soap and using the sink very thoroughly I settled down to enjoy breakfast. Eegii was champing at the bit to get going so we packed up, posed for a big family photo and were soon bumping our way down the valley, waving to the nameless kids as they chased the van, their pockets stuffed full of lollipops.

The scenery was exactly how I imagined Mongolia, wide grassy valleys full of animals grazing under an endless clear blue sky. Within 5km we had passed the Mongolian big 5; Horses, goats, camels, cattle and yaks without seeing a single other human. We wound along the valley floor, absorbing the peaceful scenery, passing suckling foals, huge stalking egrets, hard looking herders on horseback, vulture ridden corpses and the cutest creature of all, baby yaks.

After a couple of hours we crested a rise and the multicoloured town of Arvaikheer came into view. We drove to the main square past tens of people industriously digging holes for what turned out to be national 'plant-a-tree' day. There were lots of placards and loudhailers proclaiming this enthusiastic green initiative, and we watched an interlude performance of a local stringed instrument which sounded like a highly strung and confused oriental cello.

Victor lead us into a dark room where a women stood brandishing a large knife, poised over a variety of carcasses laid out on cardboard. We were instructed to choose some meat for a traditional Mongolian hot pot for supper and as the choice was mutton or mutton we left with a forequarter of mutton in a cardboard box.

We had lunch just out of town and whilst Victor cooked, Eegii gleefully dismembered the meat we had just bought, wasting only the spinal cord which was thrown to a waiting hawk.

We carried on and whilst the scenery continued to stimulate pointing and staring, the bumps became unbearable. It did not improve after we entered the Khuisiin Naiman Nuur Nature Reserve, and so we took a well earned break to watch a herd of wild horses, with foals at foot, charge down the mountainside and past us, towards the river which flowed at the bottom of a picturesque valley.

We wound and bounced our way along the rugged valley, dodging the sharp rocks, yaks and occasionally wading the river. It was tough driving and after over 30km we were willing each ger we passed to be our overnight stop and eventually we rolled up to a remote trio of gers tucked into a niche in the rocks where Eegii killed the engine.

Only the rather fierce dog was home but as is Mongolian custom we let ourselves in to the main ger, and awaited our hosts. Soon the family motorbike returned, all wearing smart local dress having been to a regional council meeting. We introduced ourselves and the father's ornate gemstone snuff box was passed around over homemade yaks milk yoghurt, which was delicious.

Having eaten what would probably prove to be too much dairy produce for our stomachs to handle we were excused and made a quick sortie to the babbling river just over the horizon before returning to organise our cosy ger. Soon the sound of bleating surrounded us and the door was flung open by the 5 year old boy, now out of his best suit, carrying a very tame and amenable goat kid like a doll. The kid's mother was killed by wolves so he and Eegii fed it from a bottle made from a yak's horn and it waddled out of the ger significantly rotund. Other orphans followed us around as we called to the main ger to watch supper being prepared and they were all very accustomed to being the child's toys as we watched the big round bottomed pot go on the roaring stove.

A dozen black rocks were pulled out of the furnace and went sizzling into the pan, followed by a layer of the dismembered carcass, more rocks, lots of salt, whole potatoes, carrots, onions and finally the rest of the meat. With steam filling the ger the lid was sealed in place with heavy weights and towels and we sat back to wait. After half an hour a layer of pancakes were added to seal the top and the lid was returned for a final boil.

The ger had filled with another half dozen passing locals when, with great ceremony, the lid was removed and the mutton greased hot rocks passed around, and juggled from hand to hand to 'help fatigue'. With scalded palms we were then presented with an overflowing plate of sizzling meat on the bone, whole potatoes, carrots and the dumpling/pancake. The smell was mouthwatering and the ger went silent as everyone tucked in.

It was a whole body experience and grease went everywhere as we attacked the meaty bones with teeth and bare hands. It tasted as good as it smelled and looked, and very un-mutton like. Our attempts at gnawing the bones liberated a good amount of the choicest flavour meat but it was amazing to watch the Mongolians effortlessly stripping the bones back to pure white pathology specimens using only their teeth and a knife. Eegii smashed the humerus open and distributed the marrow amongst us before cracking a hole it the scapula with one of the hot rocks for good luck, as tradition dictates.

Eventually conversation returned and we wiped the greasy mutton stains from our faces, hands, and in my case arms, before taking up toothpicks to try and remove the copious amounts of debris which was stuck. Feeling very full after dinner entertainment was re-inflating Eegii's tyres with a very loose stirrup pump and it turned out that the regional party, which we had been invited to attend, was sadly postponed. In place of drinking fermented mare's milk and losing Mongolian dance competition we watched the yaks and their young return to the camp before retreating to our ger where we played cards. With the comforting sound and warmth of the crackling log burner filling the ger we fell asleep, excited about the next day's horse riding excursion.